


Gone for Good

by Sescha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Castiel in the Bunker, Character Death, Dead Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel Undertones, Heavy Angst, I'm Sorry, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Like really angsty, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, M/M, fighting the darkness, mayor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:16:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6325090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sescha/pseuds/Sescha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's death feels unreal and distant to Dean, much like it didn't happen after all. </p>
<p>But it did. And when Dean realizes what that means, his angel is already gone for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gone for Good

**Author's Note:**

> I finished the video game "Life is Strange" and the ending made me so sad I felt like writing angst. So here it is.
> 
> Tell me what you think!
> 
> Thanks to my friend Lea for beta reading this :)

Eventually, Dean should have known it would be like this. That it was going to happen like this. In the end, he couldn't save him. He had saved the world, had stopped Lucifer and the Darkness, and had gotten out alive. But at what cost? 

For the blood drenched angel in his arms.

When Castiel regained control of his own body he used all of his strength on driving the angel blade in his hand into his own heart. He wanted to stop the archangel from slicing Dean's throat with the very same blade. Lucifer died with shining eyes and a scream loud enough to make the hunter's ears start ringing. So did Cas. 

There were no last words, no coughed confessions or a weakened press of hands. There were tears, but no cries. Dean wouldn't have noticed the wetness on his cheeks and chin if it wasn't for his brother gripping him into a hug and crying his own into torn layers of clothing. 

They did have a funeral for their angel. A hunter’s one. It was silent except for the chocked sobs coming from Sam and the crackling of burning wood. Never once did Dean tear his eyes off the fire. It felt like the last thing he owed the angel was to stay at his side till the very last moment. If only by watching him. Sam didn't leave his side either. 

“I'm sorry.” Sam said. Dean nodded to acknowledge what he meant without really knowing what it was. Why pity him when Cas had been Sam's friend too?

"I'm sorry too.” Thus he answered. Sam tried to smile but couldn't bring himself to do it just now. Not after losing his dear friend hours ago. 

The bunker was quieter somehow, even though Cas had never been the one to make much noise. Sam didn't bother taking a shower or eating something, he just turned in for the night and locked himself into his room. Dean showered quietly, changed into sweatpants and a shirt and wandered the halls instead. 

There should have been a rustling behind him. A trench coat wearing angel watching him with worry in his eyes and telling to get a full night of sleep. From now on Sam would be the only one to tell him that he wouldn't work properly without his four hours. Dean went into the library in order to find a blanket neatly folded on one of the chairs. It must have been lying here for days. He brought it up to his face but all of that earthy smell that it probably once flushed with was gone. Cas had smelled like a thunderstorm, like rain and moist woods. With a harsh movement he threw the blanket on the table and moved into the map room.

Books and files were littered across the table. Dean and Sam had tried to find a solution for their mess for the past few days. It would have been gone faster if they had had the angel scanning through the bunker's database in less than hours with his insanely quick working eyes. Dean tore his eyes off the files and went to the kitchen. He needed a drink. 

He stopped short in his tracks towards the counter when he spotted an empty cup of coffee in the sink. It had a bright yellow color with a cartoon bee printed on its side. It was especially ugly to Dean but the way Cas had cherished the cup after Claire had sent it to him on Christmas made him smile at it nonetheless. He cleaned it under the tab and reached up to place it inside the kitchen cupboard with the others. Before he closed the cupboard again, Dean suddenly realized that without Cas coming to the bunker more frequently and making himself coffee to stay awake during his nights of binge watching Netflix, no one would use the cup anymore. He realized that every time he would go to open the cabinet the memory of the day would hit him again and again, making it unable to ever forget what happened this present day. 

Dean took the cup back into his hand and lifted his head to look around the kitchen, letting his mind wander into the other rooms fitted in the bunker. Into his room and onto his night stand where a photoset of him, Sam and Cas waited to be hidden under the bed for a long time. Into Sam's where the laptop was, Cas used to do research and watch his stupid cat videos on. Into the room they had set up for the angel when his visits had started to become more and more frequent. The covers of the bed were probably still in the crumpled state he had left them in. Cas never had bothered to do the sheets, saying something about "it not making any sense if he would roll up into them in the evening anyway". Even Baby who was parked in the garage right now would always remember him of his angel and the time he taught him how to drive. Dean began to understand that even if he wanted to, he would never have a single day on which he wouldn't think of the person he had loved and lost today. 

He didn't notice how the cup had slipped out of his hand until it shattered on the floor breaking into pieces by his feet. He didn't bother to look down. Didn't care about the sting under his bare soles when he moved through the shards to reach the cabinet where the whisky was stored in. The pain in his feet was welcome. Anything to keep him distracted from the sudden clench in his chest. The way his breathing shuddered and his vision blurred. Dean limply fell onto the ground before had a chance to open the cabinet. His knees hit the hard surface and he crouched a few inches before looking back. Blood stained the tiles behind him and the seam of his pants. It triggered the picture of Cas' bloody shirt and his glossy eyes. Dean didn't hold back the tears now. Didn't choke on the sobs but let them escape loud and clearly into the emptiness of the kitchen. 

There was no sense in praying to someone who was gone for good by now. Dean tried it anyways. He got no answer. 

He downed a whole bottle of whisky that night.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more supernatural stuff, check out [my spn blog on tumblr](http://sarcasticguardian.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
